We meet again
by Kiromenanz
Summary: John had already decided to move out of 221B Baker street when one day, he meets someone he wouldn't have expected to meet. Mainly because this person should actually be dead (No actual slash but can be interpreted as such)


„What did you want me to do? Send a text like: „I'm not dead, let's have dinner"?"

„No, that would've shocked me too much."

„So what should I have done?"

„How about not dying?"

„That was not an option, John." Sherlock Holmes furrowed his brows. He was frustrated.

John Watson was as well. He couldn't believe he was arguing about this.

„And why? I'd like to remind you that you never cared to _explain _why you pretended to jump off that stupid roof!" He felt himself getting angry but he couldn't help it. The tall man in the black cloak opposite him deserved being yelled at more than anyone.

„I would have, if you would have cared to give me a few seconds to do so." Sherlock said, taking a sip of his tea. He was the same old Sherlock as always: Calm, arrogant and absolutely annoying. One would've never thought that he had been dead until some moments ago. At least he had everyone believing he was dead.

John had believed it. At least a bit. He had until he had come into 221B Baker street to fetch the last few things of his when he had turned around and had seen Sherlock Holmes standing in the doorway, looking at him with the 'we both know what's going on here look' he hated so much.

The sight of his best friend suddenly revived from the death had been enough to make him get very, very pale.

„Sherlock?" he had wispered, trying to figure out what was going on.

Sherlock had opened his mouth. „Hello John."

And then John - for the first and hopefully the last time in his life - had fainted.

„Fine." he said, remembering their more or less fortunate encounter earlier „Explain."

And Sherlock did.

After listening to his story from beginning to end, including the realization he was going to die, Molly (John couldn't believe Sherlock actually had brought _Molly _into this) and finally, the reason why he had to jump.

To save John.

By hearing it, said John didn't know how to react. He looked at Sherlock, mouth open and mind blank.

Sherlock looked back at him, waiting for any reaction.

Finally John noticed he had to say something.

„Erm" he cleared his throat „So that was the reason."

And then they sat in silence again.

The longer the silence lasted, the more frustrated Sherlock seemed to become.

„You're angry." he finally said „Why?"

John thought a moment „No." he answered slowly, still trying to figure out what his reaction was „I'm not angry. I'm... moved."

„Moved?" said Sherock „Why?" However long he had been 'dead', it hadn't helped anything concerning his understanding of normal human emotions. He really was still the same old Sherlock after all.

„Because you did this for me.. us.. me." John tried to explain „Well, more or less me, at least. And I'm moved."

„Why?" Sherlock repeated, still not getting it.

„Because you jumped off the bloody roof to save my life!" shouted John without realizing it. When he did, he apologized.

„Yes, of course I did." muttered Sherlock a bit irritated „What's so weird about that?"

John looked absolutely perplexed for a minuted and then laughed. „Of course? Sherlock, you said you didn't have any friends. You said you don't care about people."

Sherlock put his teacup back on the table in front of him. „No." he admitted „I don't."

„Yes." said John Watson „That's exactly what I was-"

But Sherlock interrupted him „I don't care about people. But I care about my best friend."

John was stunned and said nothing.

Then suddenly a wide smile spread across his face.

„What?" Sherlock said, sounding irritated again.

„You just said I'm your best friend." John repeated.

„Yes I know what I said. There's no need to make such a huge fuss about it."

While saying that, Sherlock reached out for his teacup and shoved it in his friends face.

„My teacup is empty. Make me some more."

John stared at the teacup. Yes, being dead hadn't changed Sherlock at all. But it seemed like he didn't take any offence.

Well, at least not today.

„Allright." he said and took the cup „But only today." While walking into the kitchen, he called back into the living room „If you want to, I can move back in here again. But I may quote you about that ‚best friend' thing once or twice."

Sherlock lay on the couch, facing the ceiling, hands folded and mind already wandering off to places nobody had ever seen. „Whatever you say, John Watson."


End file.
